Another kind of Nomads
by Simpli
Summary: It's not about the destination, it's about the journey. You journey is to your death, preferably by high-powered plasma torpedo volleys, if the armada of aliens known as 'the nomads' are to be believed. The nomads have no home world, they don't believe it's time to 'settle down' as a species. It's just a way to entertain them self, Galactic genocide is their sport of choice.


**It's nothing personal, you understand?**

Simm`Tomma nar Jinna was clutching the controls of the little shuttle he was flying with great restraint: only muttering under his breath about greedy volus, while one of his three fingered hands was manipulating the overlay of the holographic interface in front of him and the hangar door in front of him slowly opened.

Behind the blue tinted mask of his environmental suit Simm rolled his eyes as the hatch behind him opened and his "employer" entered and maybe not for the first he was glad about the filters set in his mask as he saw the tortured looks of the few turians and salarians who just had to endure the smell of their employer: Korhan Leed, who might have purposefully let some of his ammonia heavy gas leak out of his environmental suit to make everyone else uncomfortable.

With the heavy rasping which came from the use of said suit he build himself up next to Simm and looked forward at the slowly increasing gap which showed the black of space.

"I can…feel today…will be a good day….for business…,"

patting his round belly he gave Simm a sly look…..or at least the equivalent of it: with both species confined to environmental suits thanks to the unique nature of their home world they could read each other far better than other species were able to.

Taking another rasping breath Korhan continued with his eyes set on the hangar door:

"Every member….of Vol-clan…..would envy us about our moment here…", shaking his head he added "Can you feel it….the opportunity….especially a member….of Migrant-clan….should see it…."

Shaking his head Simm controlled himself and didn`t shout at his employer at how nobody had an idea where they even were, not even thinking about, why they were wherever they were.

Instead he forced it down and answered politely:

"I sadly lack your vision to catch the meaning of this moment Korhan…but I`m deeply grateful you share it with me…and that you allowed me to work of my debts on this trip.",

Hiding the clenching of his fists by pulling the controls up and letting the shuttle hover readily, he kept silent about just how a young pilgrim was able to gather such a debt so quickly….or how he ended up as the debtor to a creditor who was of course only coincidentally co-owner of the shop he had "wrecked".

"Ahh…..then look….out Migrant-clan.",

Korhan said amused and pointed one stubby finger at the now open hangar door and Simm gasped in disbelief: strewn out before them were ships: maybe two dozen of them, all either old batarian or turian designs, with even one or two seemingly retrofitted with newer technology.

But they weren`t in the best condition: he only came too his initial number after piecing together some of the larger parts of debris in his mind and even then the amount as well as the size of different damage signs was simply stunning.

A few ships were clearly blown up from the inside, the debris floating around with blackened colour and with alloy blown outwards in grotesque patterns, the heat of it long since cooled in the once empty void.

But when he took a look at two cruisers who drifted lifelessly past their doorway: one had clearly punctured holes from one side to another, a small cloud of floating…things formed above each point, while the entrance in the hull were framed by melted metal, just as if someone had shot at the ship with a gardian laser from point black distance.

The second wreck was truly….disturbing, it didn`t look so much blown apart or punctured, as fused together, as if someone had gone through with a wooden knife and fused all decks together, giving the ship the ugly look of some sort of sausage which gets strung at one point of its length.

Fighting himself out of his reverie and noticing the waiting position of his employer, Simm quickly started to move the shuttle out of the bay, letting out a relived sigh under his mask as Korhan nodded graciously and then opened his omni-tool manipulating a software, which then opened a mask of the sector and a highlighted beacon appeared in the middle of the ship graveyard.

"That …ship...", he rasped and under his suit his eyes must have been as big as Simms, then as they flew past another broken frigate they saw their target. It had surely seen better days, maybe thirty years ago when its class was decommissioned from the batarian navy, but even now a dreadnought was something able to amaze everyone who looked at its pure size.

"Keelah…what is that?", Simm breathed and waved his arm towards the death dreadnought and its pack, a shiver running down his back as he looked at Korhan: "…and what did that to them?"

Snapping his head up to the pilot the volus shook his head "Who did that… is not of interest to us….but that is….that was the independent Mirvian Navy…", scoffing lightly he added: "..just…a bunch of…clan-less pirates…but…they were a successful band…we will go in an get their treasures for us migrant-clan…then you can get a share to buy pay your debt…."

Having said his part Korhan turned around and strode back into the passenger part, he hatch losing behind him and leaving Simm alone with the view of the ever growing dreadnought as he steered the shuttle towards it.

* * *

"Shuttle, please come in…we got strange readings from the debris field to your right.",

Frowning Simm looked at his instruments and then touched the sender again "Inuri, we have nothing on our sensors I…", looking around and finding himself still alone he added "..we will take a visual approach for you."

Not waiting for his employers return…and certain whimpering about the costs of fuel…Simm steered the shuttle towards the debris field, the mangled remains of two frigates and some busted asteroids floating around in space.

"Inuri, please come in, the sensors are conforming your readings, there seems to be some sort of….energy residue…I will-",

Whatever he wanted to say didn't leave the vocalization chord of his suit as he nearly suffocated on his own recycled breath: simply….appearing, he didn't find a better word for the sudden clearance of the faint readings which were then replaced by a large and very clear energy reading and a ship seemed to decloak itself.

It looked…for a lack of a better word: weird.

Looking at his readings he saw it was around two hundred and fifty meters long and its hull was coloured….orange?

The unknown cruiser…it was fitting in regards to its size at least, seemed to be build like an atmospheric fighter: like one of the huge cumbersome bombers which most races had used once upon the time to bombard the cities of each others nations when they were still confined to their home planet.

This vessel had broad wings in the kind of an airplane and not with the swooping lines of birds of prey most known military vessel he had seen were using.

Only at second glance another nagging detail came to his mind: the ship didn't seem to be build around a spinal cannon…instead a dozen small turrets were set on its surface…and its bottom, the small towers turning and pointing at….

His blood might have become ice in this moment as he pushed the shuttle down with full throttle, barely evading the half a dozen red….beams cutting through barely over the space they had just occupied and in the next moment the Inuri behind them turned into a bright ball of exploding matters and torn hull as the beams bypassed the kinetic barriers completely and wracked havoc through the unarmored civilian vessel.

"Migrant-Clan what has-",

Whatever Korhan wanted to say, it wasn't louder than the beating blood in his head as Simm flow the tightest curve he could, barely evading a shower of bright red beams as a smaller kind vessel, barely more than ten meter long, flew past them at an unbelievable speed its hull looking like a primitive rocket with two curved wings at its side and for a moment he could have sworn to have seen a head behind a small glass bulk in its side.

No matter who it was….they were coming back!

Letting out a garbled cry he tore the shuttle around again, flying barely past the severed end of a frigate as his pursuer came into view of his sensors again, overtaking them at an insane speed and leaving a trail of hot pockmarks along the armour of the frigate and Simm pivoted the shuttle and flew it straight down, ignoring the flaring alarms as multiple hits simply punched through the body of the shuttle.

He didn't have a moment to think about his …late employer and the mercenaries in the back, who had either made far to close acquaintance with weapon which shouldn't exist in that form…or at least not to their knowledge…or they had turned into small bits which had pressed out through the new holes in the passenger apartment.

The Quarians problems were more the screeching sounds under his feet as he brought the shuttle down as fast as he could, its belly scratching along the frigates hull and more alarms sounding around him as his hand went from one control to another as fast as possible, barely rolling to the side as the red rocket came after him the front window of the shuttle giving him a frightening good luck at the red light show rolling past him as the fighter overshoot the small shuttle again and swung around in a graceful arch, bearing down on him again.

Simm for his part had no time for the beauty of the manoeuvre….or its redundancy in space….as he desperately tried to look for something to hide behind, but the shuttle had already left the frigate wrack behind and was now thumbing forward with failing life support and….

"Bosh'tet!"

He was nearly torn out of his chair as the weakening internal dampers were strained by the sudden death of one side engine, making the whole shuttle lurch to the side and giving it a tumbling spin as the other engine died in its try to stabilize the craft again.

Simm didn't even need to look at the controls: it was nearly a miracle he had survived so long in this tin can but to die now, by pirates or a new species….when he had just seen someone simply use lasers….something which shouldn't have been possible….lasers even small enough for a fighter craft to use.

Just in this moment he looked up and saw said crate flying next to him, a wonder in itself as the shuttle was starting to spin…out of control it had been since a while now.

Mentally shrugging to himself and just amazed that he wasn't death yet….or that his suit wasn't cut open at some point….he pressed the single still working system: emergency communication.

"Keelah se'lai, my name is Simm`Tomma nar Jinna, tasi should be left in space, may my remains find their way to…",

He didn't get much further as a distinctly…feminine voice come out of his radio in fluent quarian, missing even the tiny signs of translation the citadel races had after hundreds of years of contact with the quarian people:

"Finally, your surrender good? I was afraid you were going to pull an Order. The Ghanam is going to get you…puuhhh…..were we afraid when you didn't kill your drives as soon as your capital ship was away, strange behaviour my friend…"

The voice surely said more but Simm simply sacked into his seat in shock as the voice continued in the background babbling friendly as if she….it….whatever hadn't just tried to fry him!

But however strange the being was, he nearly went into panic as the red rocket pried away from it course with the wrecked shuttle and her desperately clutched the com as the pilot said:

"The Ghanam is there, simply stay in your seat…",

He didn't even get to ask what precisely the Ghanam was….and he didn't need to: a little shy under a hundred meters (at least he judged it like that) it came closer: its long cigare like hull painted in bright green and two sets of …..missile launchers (?) visible on its top.

But what got his attention most was the middle turret which swung around to him and as he was already ready to cry for the mercy of his ancestors a bright blue glow seemed to erupt from the turret, closing around the shuttle and suddenly the spinning stopped….from one moment to another his shuttle was motionless and he was….pulled along by the blue beam?

He had no idea how it worked but….his fingers were itching to take a look at it and even if he was close to panic he had to drum his three fingertips over the chair as he imagined the technology behind this tool.

What he did not expect was how easy it went: the green frigate named Ghanam simply pulled him along until they arrived in a small cluster of asteroids and he rubbed over his faceplate as he saw the small fleet hidden in it, all of them just shimmering into existence as the Ghanam closed on them.

He was pulled towards a large blue cruiser, similar in size to the orange one from before….why were there so many different colours?...and suddenly a hatch opened on its back: "A carrier…",

He murmured to himself as the shuttle was slowly send inside, a small tremor going through it was artificial gravity set in and is fall a few inches down onto the plating of the hangar.

Simply sitting numbly in shock for some minutes, Simm slowly snapped out of it and stood up, trembling on his feet as he took a step toward the door, his hand banging against the doors lock and the emergency energy barely was enough to open the emergency protocols: opening all doors of the shuttle.

The passenger compartment was….mercifully clean…vacuum cleaned to be honest…

Walking through it like in a dream and looking at the holes in the walls: each looking as if an angry fist had simply punched through the metal, Simm nearly fell over as he exited the craft and only didn't meet the floor with his faceplate because an hand hold him up.

Slowly raising his eyes he saw the red rocket standing next to his shuttle, a hatch opened in its side and the pilot…the pilot was standing before him and his confusion only grew as he saw the…figure before him.

A certain slender build might be visible….he wasn't so sure but she had sounded like a quarian female…over an translator that is.

But the appearance was simply..off.

It was like the ships: she was wearing a tight suit, not unlike his own and her head was covered in a all encompassing helmet in a dark violet shade which didn't allow a peak inside.

But over it…was an outfit which might have belonged to a primitive pilot who was just about to learn atmospheric flight: a thick… fur rimmed jacket of all things with equally thick pair of pants ending in strong black boots like asari or humans prefer them, leaving only bits of the suit exposed and even the hands were hidden underneath a pair of brow gloves which made it hard to judge the number of digits…..at the same time the helmet was also only partly visible as a cap with large floppy sides was covering it and where the mouth might be a bright red scarf was slung a few times around the pilots neck its end touching the ground.

"Welcome aboard the Tinzaght Pilot, I'm squadron leader Fawz.",

she introduced herself in the same pleasant voice which seemed to come from somewhere inside the scarf…where a mouth might be..but…was his translator even working?

Simm didn't have time to pounder around it as a gloved hand closed around his wrist and pulled him away from the shuttle as it was lifted away from the deck again and brought outside into space.

"Hey! What are they doing with my…", he didn't finish the sentence as its whole silliness came clear to him and he simply watched the last piece of familiarity disappear as the hatch closed.

"They are going to play tractor ball with it.", came an cheery voice from his side and he raised his head to stare back at the barely exposed black violet helmet.

"Tractor ball?", he asked nearly automatic.

"Ohhh? You don't know that? Its easy, a few of the hunter killer frigates take smaller ships or their wracks and then form two teams: each chooses two asteroids to mark their own zones, each time then tries to get the smaller wracks into the zone of the others."

"Like…a ball game?", Simm asked and got a confused look back…or at least he felt as if the pilot in front of him was confused:

"A ball? What should that be? It's a ship game, what else is there?",

She asked and shook her head, before pulling him along again:

"Let's get to the mess and get you something to eat, we can watch the game from there.", she said and gave him a light pat on the back as she lead him through the hall.

"That's very….nice of you…", the Quarian said carefully as he followed his….hostess.

"No problem~ No problem at all, a good squad leader takes care of her pilotes!",

Fawz exclaimed and pulled him towards a door, as Simm asked, this time he was confused:

"One of your pilots?"

"Yes, obviously: by the rules of the challenge all pilots and ships of the loosing side join the winner and the captain has given you to me to fill a gap left behind by our last entertainment."

"But…but I…you can't…", Simm stammered as he tried to work out what that sentence had meant, but Fawz only stepped closer again and gave him a slap on the back, which nearly send him to the ground again as she led out a loud and boisterous…quarian….laugh, something he couldn't remember hearing often on the tight and confined ships of the flotilla:

"Of course I can, don't bother about it, your squadron leader will take care of her subordinates and let me be the first to tell you:

**Welcome to our sport fleet and Welcome to the Nomads!**"


End file.
